The Room of Memories
by ForgottenSavior18
Summary: A boy stumbles into a forgotten room in the attic of his manor and makes some startling discoveries which lead to a new understanding of his enemies and friends as well as a hope for the future. No pairings


The Room of Memories

by forgottensavior18

Disclaimer: I don't own the character's in this story, I'm just borrowing them for my own pleasure. If I did own the characters the stories would be a whole lot different. I'm not making any money off this and I don't have any money that makes me worth sueing. This was written for enjoyment and thought. I apologize in advance for any grammatical or spelling errors I'm not a genius, I'm just in high school, and my spell checker doesn't work properly. The girl in the painting is however my creation. So if you read this you will have to deal with an added character. Enjoy

Late one lonely Saturday night during a thunderstorm, a child was to be found coated in a thin layer of dust rummaging through faded boxes in a long forgotten attic room. It would be surprising for most people to walk in on this current scene. This boy was of the arastoictrasy and rummaging or "dirty" jobs such as organizing were far beneath him. And this young boy was not the kind of person who would look for things but rather the kind of person who would order another to find things for him. So it was incrediably bizarre to find this young man personally looking through these crumbling boxes. But this was an exceptionally curious room and therefore dictated his personal presence. The boy, who actually by most's standards would not be considered such, had found a room that he felt distinctly drawn to though he didn't know why. This room was not decorated in the expensive tastes like the rest of the house but rather appeared humble in design and decoration. But only on first and superficial inspection. This room held a cozy and loving feel that the boy had never encountered before. The normal style throughout the house was of stiff modern objects that held a cold feeling even in the depth of summer that seemed to seep through all things making the entire house seem cold depressed and gloomy. The boy was curious as to how this room had retained it's style. He could hardly believe his father would allow such a warm style to "taint" his house. But here the room stayed regardless, holding it's unique homely style that seemed to belong there.  
  
The room looked as if it had not been touched in decades, and was filled with odd items that were coated in dust. Furniture throughout the room lay covered with sheets. There were also paintings lining the walls, all covered with similar sheets, but whether this was to protect the paintings or keep them from view the boy didn't know. The cloth seemed to be making sure that no one saw the paintings, making sure that no one was ever exposed to their beauty, magnificent colors and love that shone through them. The whole room seemed to radiate love, kindness and a calming presence that intimately tied the young man to the room.  
  
The boy could tell that this room housed many cherished memories, perhaps that was why the room had remained intact and the attic sealed from intrusion, the boy thought. The room's existence still baffled the boy, he was unable to believe his father would allow such a room to exist it was beneath him and his mother liked only the latest of things so this could not of been her creation she would of thought such a room to be utterly repugnant. Perhaps that was why the boy ventured into the room when it obviously hadn't been touched for many years. The entire room seemed to be beckoning him into itself telling him to come so that it could reveal it's long kept secrets. As the boy walked silently into the room a cloud of dust settled around his feet from the motion not felt in this room. There were so many things crammed into the room he didn't know where to begin searching. It looked as if an entire life had been crammed into this room hastily as to be forgotten because someone couldn't bear the pain of seeing the familiar items lying around.... The boy felt a chill of loneliness encase his body as that thought filtered through his mind. Someone's life had been hastily stored in here so that they could be forgotten. As if they had never exsisted. The person's loved one's couldn't handle seeing any trace of that person, it hurt too much. The boy began to understand this room. As he sat down to search through an old chest he felt himself being drawn to. Perhaps this room wanted him to see the life of the person who had been forgotten. They must of mattered to one of his ancestors very much or else all these things would of been destroyed long ago.  
  
The chest groaned and squeaked as he lifted it's lid and a cloud of dust arose and temporarily blinded the boy who was anxious and apprehensive to search the chest's contents. Inside the box were parchments yellowed with age. Each parchment had a curvy fusion of cursive and calligraphy type writing on it that the boy instantly wished he were able to do. The parchments were all notes, notes from the writer's classes in Hogwarts. Well at least they were a witch or wizard the snob inside the boy muttered. At the very bottom of the pile of notes the boy noticed a little note probably written between two friends, a picture of a tabby cat that the boy instantly recognized as being his own teacher, Professor McGonagall. Well, the boy mused to himself, this room is not as ancient as I had originally thought. It had to be less than 30 years old if the doodle was of his Transfiguration Professor. After dusting off the chest and that particular corner of the room the boy began to rummage through other chests to find similar objects. Some books were unearthed as well as a trunk that had obviously been used to carry the student's Hogwarts supplies but still the boy found no name within his search. As the boy went throughout the room he carefully dusted off everything and placed the books, notes, and various other items on shelves he somehow knew they should go. At last the young man of 16 reached a wall that held one of the covered paintings. He reached to pull off the cloth and stopped short of it, hesitating for a brief moment to contemplate what he was doing. These paintings were obviously covered for a good reason but it's cruel to cover up a piece of artwork and beauty that it's creator put so much energy, power, and love into, the boy thought. As the boy removed the sheet and saw what lie beneath it he couldn't restrain a gasp of astonishment that escaped his lips.  
  
The painting was done by a very masterful artist, but unlike the rest of the paintings adorning his magical house the subject in the painting remained completely stationary. Someone with knowlege of muggles must of painted it he thought, even more astonished that such a thing had been allowed to remain within the manor. The subject was a beautiful young women around 17. She was wearing traditional hogwarts robes of Slytherin. Her hair was down and being blown by the wind. Her contience radiated from a beaming smile that graced her lips. She looked truly happy until you reached her eyes. Her eyes shook the boy to the depths of his soul. The eyes which held no particular color but rather of mesh of all of them looked sad and forlorn and held a wisdom that accompanied old age. A wisdom that a mere 17 year old should not posess. She seemed utterly distraught and lonely as she stood their smiling in the wind, her eyes foretelling of an evil yet to come that she only knew of, a modern Cassandra. The young man felt a moisture traveling down his face and was astonished to see that he was crying. This young girl looked as if she was being forced to hold upon her shoulders the weight and problems of the entire world.  
  
The boy had seen this look before and that frightened him now that he realized from where the look was familiar. That look was the same that adorned his nemesis's eyes when the other boy thought no one else was watching and gave up the on using energy to maintain his mental and emotional walls, and unconsciously allowed his facades to slip. The young man also realized, on closer inspection of the painting, that although the girl was wearing Slytherin robes she had a tiny Gryffindor lion pinned to her shirt, right by her neck and she also was discretely adorned in the Gryffindor colors throughout her outfit. The young man smiled to himself before turning his back to the painting and continuing to clean the room.  
  
The boy decided to wait to explore the chests and instead rid the room of it's unregarded layer of dust from misuse. The boy began uncovering the furniture and dusting the carpets after moving the few remaining chests to the side of the room. After several hours the boy was finally pleased with his work as he stopped to admire the beautiful room. It had an ornately carved stone fireplace in one corner that had a mantel piled with various books, several ornate and practical shelves throughout the room with a stunning plush carpet that made you want to rub you toes into it. Finally after cleaning the room the boy emptied the remaining chest but did not stop to admire the contents. He carefully placed the various items throughout the room and stowed the chests in a large empty closet situated next to the door that he hadn't noticed until he turned away from the paintings. As the boy viewed his tedious work he could hardly believe that he had origonally scorned this majestic room as being humble, simplistic, and generally below his tastes. The last thing to be done in the room, the boy realized, was to remove the cloth from the remaining paintings.  
  
This became a tedious process since once the clothe was removed the boy would spend several minutes admiring the paintings. The sheets covered several other beautiful paintings, one even of his father. Obviously all donby the same artist as the first and all done in a muggle style. At this point the boy realized that this room held the possessions of someone his father had held dear to his heart, a notion a few hours earlier the boy would of thought to be ludricious. But now that he had seen this room it made sense to the boy, after all he was very much like his father and he therefore understood why his father had been unable to live around these items but also unable to part with the precious memories that they represented. His father looked so happy and jovial in the portraits. The boy began to wonder what had happened to his father that forced him to lose that careless smile and become the cold cynist he was today. At last the boy reached the middle of the room and stopped suddenly wary of what lay behind the last three cloths. These paintings seem to reek of sorrow and forgotten promises, making the boy both wary and curious as to what the pictures had hidden. It was obvious that these last paintings held the most precious feeling within the whole room. After silently debating with himself the young man finally decided he would remove the clothes from the two paintings next to the centerpiece painting of the room. He clutched the fabrics tightly in his hand closed his eyes and wretched the fabric loose from the paintings.  
  
As the cloth was removed the boy slowly opened he eyes and suddenly understood a great deal more about this room, his parents, and why this room had been blockaded and forgotten. Both pictures were of wedding scenes filled with happy smiling people who looked as though they didn't have a care in the world and the boy felt extremely sad and happy at the same time as he realized who these magnificent paintings depicted. The paining on the left was of his mother Narcissa Black dressed all in white on her wedding day looking truly happy and content standing next to her husband, a man dressed all in back with pale skin and black hair. The boy then recognized the man to be his own potions professor, head of his house, and godfather. Now all of his professors odd looks and melancholy expressions became crystal clear to him. In the other painting was his father looking for the first time in his son's memory to be happy. He was smiling and laughing dressed in his tux with his arm around his wife, a beautiful slim brunette was greenish blue eyes, who in this painting looked happy as she smiled at her husband, love evident in her every feature, reminding the boy of a divine goddess more than even Narcissa ever had. The boy suddenly felt faint as he looked at the centerpiece paining still hidden from view by a black velvet piece of material. Slowly stretching out his hand and swallowing his self doubt he removed the black material carefully from the Painting revealing a beautifully done portrait of a mother and child that brought tears to the hardened teens eyes.  
  
The painting depicted a beautiful young women now 19 or 20 instead of 17 smiling serenely, eyes full of indescribable love as she viewed her baby boy. The child, cradled in his mothers arms safe from harm, was holding his mothers hair and looking into his mother's eyes. The painting became blurry because of tears started running down his face as the teen dropped to his knees in front of the portrait of the true Mrs. Malfoy cradling her son, a platinum blonde infant boy with gray eyes and pale skin. The baby's older self, a teenage Draco Malfoy sat sobbing in front of the portrait of a life he should of had, of a happiness he should of posessed and of a loving mother that he and his father desperately needed returned to them.  
  
Finally Draco understood how the famous Harry Potter must feel knowing he never got the chance to be loved by his mother because of the hatred the cruel warlock Voldemort. Because of Voldemort Harry and Draco had both lost their parents if not in physical form then in an emotional and mental form. That stormy June day Draco Malfoy made a vow to the mother he wished to of known to never again sink to the level Voldemort wanted him to. To never again torture Harry Potter at school with scathing flippant remarks because he knew now what that felt like. His mother, he found through her letters, had sacrificed her life gathering forces against Voldemort and protecting her son, husband, and best friends. She had loved the Marauders and all others hated by Voldemort and the Death Eaters very dearly and had sacrificed her life trying to prove to all the horrible pure blooded Slytherins that her father, Voldemort was wrong and that the muggles did not deserve their blind hatred and indescribable cruelity.  
  
That day Draco made a promise to his mother that he would never again allow Voldermort to control him and that he would live his life just as she had done, desperately fighting for what she believed was right and true even if everyone else was against her. Draco would fight, he would rally his fellow Slytherins, show them the truth and then they, as the second generation plagued by this war, would fight against Voldermort to preserve future generations peace. That was the only thing he could do to honor the mother he never got the chance to know.  
  
The young man lay sleeping as a light shone through the windows into a forgotten attic room no longer plagued by the dust of time as a young women dressed all in white with flowing brown hair carefully picked the young man up, cradling him in her arms as she carefully placed him on the couch and covered him with an old blanket that had once been a favorite of her best friend and husband. She smiled to herself as she thought of how great a son she had and all the things he would accomplish and the hardships yet to come. There is still time my dear to save you father and reunite those meant to be together as well as to be joined with the one you truly love good luck my child, The fates and I shall watch over you in your following obstatacles know that you can accomplish anything in order to save the life of another. Goodbye someday we'll meet again when all the pain is gone and the world is healed. I've had my time it is now your time to reign and only you can choose what you will do with your allotted time. As the sunrise began to form on the horizon a slight breeze dislodged an envolope from a shelf to land on the floor in front of the young boy to be read at a later time. The letter would help give the boy hope for this dark world and the stregnth necessary to fight a seemingly hopeless war. It would serve to give the boy a greater understanding of his power and of the things yet to come in his future.


End file.
